“Ah,” he added, with a start, after he had examined them more carefully, “here are those ornaments which Miss Douglas wore the other evening. Do the others belong to her, too?”
They saw that it would be useless to try to keep their secret from him, and little by little he drew it all from their reluctant lips. A more indignant mortal never trod the earth than Wilbur Coolidge when he got at the truth of the matter.
He demanded that the jewels be returned at once to Miss Douglas, and a suitable apology made for their insulting treatment of her.
An angry scene ensued, which Mrs. Coolidge finally put an end to by coming forward, taking the casket from her son’s hand, and locking it within her husband’s safe, which stood in the room.
“Now, Wilbur, be so kind as to hold your tongue,” she said, angrily, “you have made a fool of yourself with this girl. I intended to keep these things until your father returns, and see if he believes a poor governess came by these things lawfully.”
“You women are regular tyrants, and I reckon when father does return there will be a different state of things,” he replied, with flashing eyes.
“Oblige me by dropping the subject, my son; you are interfering in what does not concern you in the least,” returned Mrs. Coolidge, coldly.
“I shall make it my business, madam, mother mine, just as soon as the law will allow, if the poor, abused darling will let me,” he muttered, as he angrily left the room.
He watched for Brownie to come down all the evening, but she remained in her own room, too utterly miserable to desire to meet anyone.
Viola and Alma inquired for her at tea time, but were told that she was indisposed, and would not come down.